The Twelve Dancing Bishies
by Emily-Mel
Summary: M's first stab at humor, this is an adaptation of the Grimm's tale "The Shoes that were Danced to Pieces." Come on, it's got Wufei!


**THE TWELVE DANCING BISHIES**   
  


* * *

  
  


And now for something completely different... this is a GW adaptation of a secondary version of a Grimm's fairy tale, "The Shoes that were Danced to Pieces." Sort of like a third generation video... Anyway, I hope you like this and please don't hesitate to e-mail with your comments.   
--Mel   
  


* * *

  
  


**Once upon a time, there was a seriously screwed-up king. I know, royalty have a tendency toward creepiness with all the *-icide, clammy dungeons, and family trees that tend to branch and then graft back together. However, this guy was a little too "eccentric": he had twelve daughters--   
  
G-boys: Children! **

Um, kids so delightful to the eye that he wanted to keep their beauty to himself. Before you start thinking we should get the Social Services people involved in this, let's just say that nothing really icky happened to any of these bishies. True, the king kept them in the castle all day and locked them in a long, stone chamber each night, but what's a dad to do? Twelve weddings would bankrupt any small European kingdom so maybe he was trying to be frugal. 

Anyway, although the doors were bolted and barred each night, every morning the king would wake up to find twelve extremely shabby and worn pairs of shoes in place of the spanking new ones he had just shelled out good gold for--it was as if the princes and princesses had spent the night tripping the light fantastic. Getting their groove on was, of course, permitted to a limited extent; but how did they get out of the room to meet up with their paramours? 

The old king was so vexed by this conundrum that he offered the pick of his children in return for the answer. When you're staring at a lifetime of tilling and milking or hacking somebody-else's enemies into bits, marrying even Princess Dorothy (with the unfortunate eyebrows and a tendency to be a weeny bit irritable) seemed a great career move. Young men throughout the realm flocked to watch by the bedroom door all night. 

However, each evening before the door was bolted, the oldest child would offer the would-be suitors food and drink. "Here. Hn," he would charmingly say, confident the concealed sleeping draught would knock out an ox. Brave though they were, none of the suitors turned down the refreshments-- demonstrating that you might have bags and bags of muscles, a smile that twinkles like nobody's business, and even a magic singing sword; but if you don't know basic narrative convention, you're destined to come in a distant second. 

This pattern went on for quite some time. Pretty soon, the only cheerful people in the kingdom were shoemakers. The king was pulling out what little hair he had left, his children were forever dead-tired and failing their lessons--though they didn't seem to care, really--, the peasants were on the edge of revolution with all the tax increases to cover the ruined shoes, and the Royal Executioner was getting repetitive-stress syndrome from chopping off the failed suitors' heads. 

Around now is the perfect time for the hero to show up...   
  
*crickets chirping* 

Any minute now...   
  
*tumbleweed whirls past* 

Ah, there he is--just over in a nearby field. Yep, an old soldier wandering in search of purpose; tired of the mercenary life, he seeks a greater destiny. The battlefield is no place for the aged, slow and infirm.   
  
Wufei: I'm only 17 at the most, damn it! 

Sorry. As he was strolling through the woods--   
  
Wufei: We're in a field! There are no woods for miles; can't you see? 

Strolling through the field, he chanced upon an old grey-haired woman in clashingly-vivid clothes chasing a pig round and round a huge pine tree.   
  
Wufei: One tree in the middle of a pasture? 

Hey, if we were still in the woods, there would be no problem. Who wanted the field, hmm? Fine. The hog was high-tailing it around a mulberry bush. As the woman was advanced in years and pretty unstable in the best of times, she was sometimes getting lapped by the pig. 

Quick as a wink, the soldier pounced on the piggy and handed it over with a few kind words. 

"Onna, what makes you think you can do a man's job? You're obviously unworthy of this swine. Weakling female, I sully myself even speaking to you." 

A little nicer, 'kay? 

"How ever may I thank you, most gentle of sirs?" the baggage shot back. 

"Oh, Granny," he replied, "there is little I want in this life. Perhaps the one thing I could wish for is to help solve the king's riddle and discover his children's nightime activities." 

Putting a choke-hold on the pig and thumping it unconscious, she straightened her skirts. "We'm going to eat fine tonight, I tell ya." The narrator reminds Ms. Machina she should try to stay in character... 

"Lawks, sir, if that's all you want, I can easily grant your wish." She rummages in a huge bag that the soldier could have sworn was not there a moment ago and pulls out a cloak. "It's made of silk, you know. Comes out of a worm's patoot so I can't abide to wear it; but if you put it on, you'll become invisible." 

He accepted the slightly moldering garment with as much grace as he could manage. It was getting on toward winter and his Mariemaia-scout uniform was a bit drafty around the knees. 

"Mind you, them gels might still tempt you with all manner of things. Don't eat or drink anything they'll offer and you'll be right." With that, the soldier thanked her and went off to the castle. 

Taking up guard outside the bedchamber, our hero waited out the day. The sun set, and just as he was going to lock the door, the oldest child comes to offer sweet cakes and wine. 

"Here. Eat and drink." The dark-haired prince returned to his bed and all twelve were counted off before the soldier barred the door and took up his post. A veteran of several stories, our lad remembers the hag's warning and does not eat or drink. Instead, he contents himself with watching the sleeping princes and princesses through the keyhole. Geez, you're a pervert, Fei-chan.   
  
Wufei: I'm not--it's all your fault. I should be out there dispensing justice, not spying on some pathetic lecher's whelps. 

At midnight, just as our valiant soldier was starting to nod off, the royal children rise from their slumber and put on marvelous, shimmering silver gowns.   
  
Quatre: Or dapper tuxedos.   
Duo: 'dapper'? What the hell kind of word is that?   
Quatre: Do you want to wear a dress?   
Duo: Point taken. 

The oldest clapped his hands. As if by magic, a section of the slate floor slid aside, allowing them to descend a revealed stairway. Moving as quickly and silently as possible, the soldier slipped on the cloak and followed. Unfortunately, he came a bit too close to the youngest princeess and stepped on the hem of her gown. 

Turning in panic, she shrieked out, "EEP! I'm being clutched at by an invisible pervert!" Although Princess Relena was indeed correct, her sisters and brothers horse-laughed her into a shamed silence and continued on their way. Down, down they wound until they came to a wood where the trees were all made of silver.   
  
Trowa: Nope. Not possible--it'd be way too soft. 

Hey, it's bad enough you're not getting paired with Quatre. Do you want me put you in a dress?   
  
Duo: Oh please do! I haven't had a good laugh in ages.   
Trowa: *glowers* 

AFTER passing through the silver wood, they come to another filled with trees of gold. Not paying a whit of attention to their surroundings, the party moved onward to a final forest of metal trees sprouting precious gems: diamonds, emeralds, rubies, cubic zirconia... Um, maybe not the last, but definitely something you don't encounter in nature. These trees, I mean. 

In each glen the soldier would pick a small twig and place it in his pocket as evidence for the king. Finally they came to a glimmering river and its shoreline. Standing by twelve tiny coracles, a like number of princes and princesses meet our 'somnambulists.' Gentlemen helped their ladies into boats and row for the distant shore. The soldier sneaks into the last boat, an invisible third passenger. 

Hauling desperately on the oars, the youngest prince exclaimed, "Damn, Relena. Did you pork up or something? I swear we're riding low in the water." 

"Just keep rowing." She looked around, but she could not see someone following her. Paranoid? Sure, but we love that about her. 

Eventually they all reach a green shore, smoothly rolled grass stretching out like an emerald carpet. Underneath a golden moon, they danced the night away, wearing away their shoes. With the first fingers of rosy dawn stretching gently over the horizon, the couples parted--the king's children returning to their bedchamber and their beloveds buggering off to wherever they spent the day. 

As the princes and princesses slept soundly til noon, the soldier went over the fantastic events he had witnessed. If it weren't for the twigs he had plucked, he would not have believed it was more than a dream. For the next two days and nights, the soldier observed the children. Each night, they would go to the same spot and dance beneath the stars. Surely, they loved their partners with whom they danced. 

Taking the twigs to the king after three days, the soldier explained how the princes and princesses wore out their shoes. However, our hero was pretty sharp and made the king promise to forgive his children before his revelation. When he heard of their escapades and the hidden exit, the king flew into a horrendous rage. We're talking foaming at the mouth sort of thing. Somehow, he remembered his promise and calmed down a little. 

Still crazily brittle about the edges, he asked the good man which of the daughters he wanted as a bride for solving the puzzle.   
  
Wufei: Gimme Prince Trieze or Zechs... maybe both? 

The old soldier thought for a moment, though his brain hurt from the unaccustomed activity.   
  
Wufei: Hey, that's slander. 

No, it's libel if it's printed.   
  
Wufei: *grr* Same thing. 

Racking his pea-mind, he resolved that the princesses were all too young for him. "If you would, your majesty, please grant these fair maids and gents the hands of their loves with whom they dance each night." 

"Don't be so self-less, sir," the king replied. "Think of something I may give you in return for ending a temporary trouble (and visiting a more lasting punishment on me in the form of twelve in-laws)." 

At that moment, the soldier thought of his cloak and the old woman who had given it to him. "Then, your grace, grant me a herd of pigs. They are very good and intelligent creatures. I believe I may be happy tending them the remaining days of my life." 

His request was readily granted and the kingdom rejoiced with the marriages of the dancing princes and princesses. As far as we can tell, they all lived happily ever after, which is more than can be expected in real life, but exactly what happens with stories.   
  


* * *

OWARI   
  


* * *

  
Wufei: Hold on a minute...I can't believe you had me say that! Pigs are only good for pork. And look at this runt--it's black instead of big and bristly white like the others.   
  
P-chan: *oink*   
  
Wufei: I'm going back to China where these sorts of things don't happen to honorable people. Come on, Nataku.   
  
big panda: *grr?* 

Our brave hero sets off toward the rising sun, his trusty steed... Um, cuddly panda by his side and a weeny pig following. What adventures await him? Only time will tell.  
  
  


* * *

OWARI   
  


* * *

(really, I'm not kidding...   
  
go home already)   
  


* * *

  
  


If you've got questions or comments about this fic (like why the heck it was written), [ e-mail the author, Mel. ][1]

HTML created on Feb. 21, 2001 by Mel of M&Em-chan. 

   [1]: mailto:josefgolem@hotmail.com



End file.
